


Reward

by icandrawamoth



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Consensual Underage Sex, Daddy Kink, Hand Jobs, I have Sinned guys, I'm Going to Hell, Light Dom/sub, M/M, NSFW Yurio Week, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Post-Grand Prix Final, Sub Yuri Plisetsky, Underage Sex, age difference like whoa, author is stuck between 'regrets everything' and 'regrets nothing', nsfwyurioweek, read the author's note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-27 19:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12087612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Yuri gazes up at him and finally speaks. “Did I do well today...daddy?”A punched-out noise comes from Yakov's throat. “I'll never get used to that,” he manages. One hand curls gently into Yuri's hair, and the boy's eyes close as he leans into it, relishing the touch. “Of course, baby. You were miraculous. That record is going to stand for awhile, and that medal is yours forever.”





	Reward

**Author's Note:**

> Written for NSFW Yurio Week day four prompt "daddy kink." Full disclosure, guys: I wrote this as a kind of "what's the weirdest thing I can come up with" challenge to myself in light of all the hate this event has gotten. Do I actually ship this pairing? God, no. Do I think it would be a healthy relationship? Of course not. All of the appropriate information and warnings are in the header, so read them. If you don't like what you see there, it's your responsibility to not read the fic. Any hate will be deleted unanswered.

The banquet seems to last _forever_. The hours crawl by as Yuri is forced to make nice with reporters and sponsors and his fellow skaters, all the while wishing more than anything it was all over and he could do what he really wants, the thing that's making his nerves thrum with impatience. Sometimes Yakov is by his side, a hand on his shoulder as he tells one person or another how proud he is of his student. Other times, they end up on opposite sides of the room, and Yuri has to fight down the urge to catch his eye.

Finally, as the clock inches toward ten and people start to clear out, they end up side by side at the champagne table. “You should head back to your room, Yuri,” his coach murmurs, and he would bristle at the paternalism if he didn't know exactly what it means. Instead, he only nods and slips from the room, heart pounding.

He sits on his bed, hands shaking with anticipation clutched between his knees. He tries to distract himself, to will just a few more minutes to go by faster, by looking at the medal laying on the desk. The gold catches the light from the cracked curtains, throwing up a sparkling circle on the ceiling. Gold, he thinks with a grin. Another for his collection, and far from the last.

His phone buzzes with a text, and he doesn't bother checking it; he already knows what it says.

Yuri slips out the door, treading along the mostly empty corridors of the hotel until he reaches the room he's looking for and slides the card he's been given. The door admits him, and he closes it behind him before gazing into a room lit dimly by a single lamp.

Yakov is sitting on the bed, looking at him in turn, and Yuri feels his heartbeat slow. This is it, what he's been waiting for. It's happening now, and he doesn't need to wait anymore.

He steps forward, feeling his whole body soften as he goes to his knees in front of Yakov.

The older man groans. “Yurochka...”

Yuri gazes up at him and finally speaks. “Did I do well today...daddy?”

A punched-out noise comes from Yakov's throat. “I'll never get used to that,” he manages. One hand curls gently into Yuri's hair, and the boy's eyes close as he leans into it, relishing the touch. “Of course, baby. You were miraculous. That record is going to stand for awhile, and that medal is yours forever.”

Yuri allows himself to smile. Of course he'd known Yakov was proud of him, but hearing it like this is different. It's one thing to hear them from his coach, another entirely to have them come from his daddy. “Are you going to reward me?” he purrs, pushing into Yakov's hand a little more.

“You haven't been rewarded enough already?” There's a hint of a smile in Yakov's gruff voice. He scratches Yuri's scalp lightly.

“Not by you, daddy. Not the way I like.” He crawls closer, right up into Yakov's personal space, and comes to rest between his legs, one hand on each of the older man's knees. He gives him a long look before ducking down to press his lips eagerly to his groin through his slacks. “Let me.”

Yakov groans again, and manages a rough “ _Greedy_ ,” before he removes his hand from Yuri's hair and reaches between them to unbuckle his belt. “But you know I can't say no to you, baby.”

Yuri grins, because, boy, does he. Impatient, he pushes Yakov's hands out the way and finishes the job himself, pulling down his zipper and underwear as best he can without letting him get up. Yakov is only half hard – it takes more time for him to get going at his age – but now that he's here, Yuri can be patient. He dives in, licking and sucking at the warm flesh enthusiastically, reveling in the feeling of Yakov coming to life little by little under his ministrations.

His coach's hands are back in his hair now, twisting the blonde locks fretfully as his breath quickens. “That feels so good, baby,” he manages with a moan, thrusting forward slightly.

Yuri beams, cheeks pink, as he continues, barely pausing to take a breath. He doesn't get to do this nearly as often as he'd like, and it's still novel to see Yakov so undone by his hand. He's fully hard now, long and hot under Yuri's touch, and as much as he might desire something else, as much as he knows Yakov will only be able to get it up once tonight, he can't tear himself away.

“Yurochka–” Yakov gasps, his grip on his hair tightening, and when Yuri swallows around him once more, pressing his tongue to his slit, he comes with a horse cry.

Heart thumping with triumph, his own cock heavy where it's trapped in his clothes, Yuri licks the older man clean, running a steadying hand down his leg when he trembles from overstimulation. When he's finished, he looks up, flushing still deeper at the look Yakov is giving him, all awe and affection.

“Come up here, baby,” he says, having regained his breath. He tugs at Yuri until he's standing, the two of them working together to quickly divest him of his pants and underwear, before pulling him into his lap.

Yuri's flesh feels hot and oversensitized; just the fabric of Yakov's pants against his thighs making him gasp. His hands go around his coach's neck to steady himself as one of Yakov's hands dives back into his hair to guide him in for a kiss. Yuri closes his eyes as their lips slot together, his soft and balmed while Yakov's are dry and chapped. Both groan as their tongues play against each other – then they're parting for breath, and Yakov's other hand is on his cock, Yuri whimpering loudly as he thrusts up against him desperately.

It would be pitiful how fast he goes off, if it didn't feel so good. Yakov strokes him through the aftershocks, Yuri trembling against him, finally resting against his chest as Yakov moves his arm to wipe his hand on his pants.

Yakov's hands come back to slip under his shirt, warm and steady against his back. Yuri tucks his face into his neck and lets his eyes fall closed, breathing in the scent of their mingled sweat and come. Yakov turns his head to touch a gentle kiss to his temple, murmuring, “You're so good for me, Yurochka. My beautiful baby.”

A smile seems permanently fixed to Yuri's face, he feels so good. He turns his head, seeking a kiss which Yakov immediately gives him. “Do I have to go back to my room now?” he asks softly.

Yakov sighs, stroking his back gently. “You know you have to before morning, baby. You know we can't let anyone know about this.”

“I don't want them to,” Yuri murmurs against damp flesh. “'s just for us.”

Yakov kisses him again. “That's right. But you don't have to go yet.”

Yuri smiles. “Good. Because...” He pulls one of Yakov's hands out from under his shirt and presses it back between his legs where's he starting to harden again.

Yakov laughs, deep and a gravely, jostling Yuri against his chest. “My insatiable Yurochka,” he says fondly.


End file.
